


Timshel

by moogsthewriter



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Out of the Shadows (2016)
Genre: 2016 movie spoilers, Casey Jones Backstory, Gen, in which everything for Casey is made up and canon doesn't matter, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-12 13:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7107493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moogsthewriter/pseuds/moogsthewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Casey has divided his life into <em>Before</em> and <em>After</em> since he was 13 years old and a couple of gangbangers broke into his home and ended up taking away his family.</p><p>Before the home invasion, and After. Before Foster Home #5, and After. Before and After community service with Detective Peck. Before applying to the NYPD, and After.</p><p>Before the Technodrome Incident, and After.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [taizi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/taizi/gifts).



> This was supposed to be a nice, short, well-written one-shot. It is none of these things. What can I say - 2016 Casey has such a vague and potentially angsty background.
> 
> Hoping to try and update every two weeks or so, but summer travel plans are almost upon me, so I don't know how it will actually all work out. Hope springs eternal, or some such thing.
> 
> Post _Out of the Shadows_ , with some sort of vague-ish but still definitely spoilers. Title is from Mumford and Sons (and _East of Eden_ , actually; if you haven't read that book, you really, really should). I own nothing. PG-15 level swear words.
> 
> Happy birthday, Taizi! You're the best partner in angst-writing crime. I wish I could give you ALL THE THINGS, but instead you get this.
> 
>  **Edit 6.7.2016** \- OMG I'm a moron and thus had uploaded an older (aka WRONG) version of this chapter. The vast majority is still the same, but there are a couple of key timeline things that will be important later that were wrong in the first version. 
> 
> Carry on and pay no attention to the n00b behind the curtain.

_"But I have a new love for that glittering instrument, the human soul. It is a lovely and unique thing in the universe. It is always attacked and never destroyed — because 'Thou mayest.'"_ _—_ _John Steinbeck_ , East of Eden

-o-

Casey has divided his life into _Before_ and _After_ since he was 13 years old and a couple of gangbangers broke into his home and ended up taking away his family.

Before the home invasion, and After. Before Foster Home #5, and After. Before and After community service with Detective Peck. Before applying to the NYPD, and After.

Before the Technodrome Incident, and After.

And okay, in Casey's opinion, "incident" is a woefully lacking word to describe the near-annihilation of the planet at the hands of an inter dimensional space alien almost three months ago. But Marvel's already claimed "Battle of New York" — like any fictional battle could usurp the right to call the _actual_ thing what it is — and someone let slip that the machine that was being built overhead was called the Technodrome, and all the big muckety-mucks in Washington are trying to downplay it as a one-time thing that will never happen again to keep people from freaking out, so "incident" is the official language.

Casey thinks it's pretty stupid; people are freaking out, anyway, so they might as well call a spade a spade and own up to the fact that there are aliens with bad intentions out there, and that there are crazy people on planet Earth who are perfectly fine working with them if they think it will help them achieve their goals.

Anyway, life after the Technodrome Incident is certainly strangest _After_ he's had yet. He's been spending time to help with the cleanup and construction — not something he would typically do, but he feels a little responsible for some of the damage, and they're actually paying him a little right now, which is great. He's _still_ waiting for Internal Affairs to conclude their investigation in Shredder's escape — he's not sure why the hell it's taking so long, other than maybe Vincent is delaying it just to spite him.

That wouldn't actually surprise him. She's on his side, yeah, but she definitely still doesn't like him. Casey would feel a little bad about that, but the feeling's mutual, and besides, it doesn't seem like Vincent really likes _anyone_ , so he tries not to take it personally.

On top of that, Casey's luck is as shitty as it's always been, which means that in addition to the Foot totaling his car, a couple pieces of the Technodrome had clipped his apartment building when they'd been flying through the air and had apparently caused damage to a key load-bearing wall. The building's been closed off to residents until the damage can be repaired, but the landlord has up and disappeared and nothing's being done. All the residents are caught in a legal no-man's land of "can't move out, can't move in" until everything's been squared away.

His renter's insurance covered a room in a local motel for the past few months, but his time's just about up on that, so he's not entirely sure what he's going to do after tomorrow. It's a dump, but it's still a New York hotel, and the little bit of cash he's picked up doing construction won't cover it. He had a grand total of eight minutes to go into his apartment and toss everything of vital importance he needed into a duffel bag, so at least he doesn't have to worry about hauling a lot of stuff around with no place to put it. Though if he's honest, it doesn't really ease his worries at all.

But tonight, he's doing what he's usually pretty good at: pushing out thoughts of all his problems and focusing on the task at hand, which is getting three eighteen-inch pies with extra cheese from Louie's to the lair in one piece.

This is the strangest part of this new After: he willingly goes to a hideaway in the sewers and hangs out with a bunch of turtle brothers, their rat dad, and the woman who raised them for a time and then saved them.

And Vern, sometimes. Though Vern's not big on hanging out in the sewers, which Casey understands one hundred percent. He's not entirely sure he'd be there all the time if he was actually able to go home, but the cockroaches in the lair are only a little bigger than the ones in his motel room, and the smell's about the same, so he figures he might as well hang out at the place that has better cable and a few game systems.

Plus… well, not that he'd admit it out loud, but it's kind of nice to be around a family again, even if it's not really his. After Foster Home #5, he's pretty much been on his own; he's got a few friends from the Academy, some he'd even call good friends, but it's been a long time since he's been around people who actually give a shit about each other.

Not that you can always tell it from the way Raph chases after Mikey after the fifth rendition of the newest Taylor Swift song, or the way Leo and Raph bicker over something at least once every two hours, or the way Donnie often secludes himself in his corner of the lair for a good chunk of the day and hardly talks to anyone, or the way Master Splinter's ears go flat when Mikey shoots overhead on his hoverboard or one of Donnie's machines makes a high-pitched noise.

But Casey sees the little things, too — Mikey leaving a protein drink right near Don's hand when he's lost in his latest project and forgets to eat; Raph struggling to hide a grin when Leo makes another one of his stupid puns while they're racing in _Mario Kart_ ; Don taking careful notes on the feedback Raph gives him about his latest run on the motorbike they're rebuilding together; Leo giving Mikey an unopened box of Cocoa Puffs he'd nicked from a truck parked outside a supermarket; the warmth in Splinter's eyes even as he barks out firm commands in training.

The more Casey learns about this little clan, the more he realizes just how deep their bond runs, in spite of — or maybe _because_ of — everything that's threatened to tear them apart since the day they were born.

And Casey — well, Casey's been around long enough to know that sort of bond is _rare_. It's precious and valuable and needs to be protected at all costs.

He's not sure if he's going to be any help in that regard — it's not like he will ever be able to give them any relevant information they don't already have from Don's scanners or April's resources, and if there's anything that can be proven from his time in foster care, it's that he's usually better at breaking families up than keeping them together.

But they haven't told him to stop coming around, and he can at least bring them some fresh pizza and a bag full of discarded-but-usable motorcycle parts, so apparently that's enough for now.

"Casey, Casey, Casey!" Mikey shouts the moment Casey crosses the threshold. He bounces — literally bounces — over to him on some souped-up oversized pogo stick with some sort of apparatus on it that looks suspiciously like a rocket pack of some kind. Casey wonders how many hours Donnie had to have been awake for _that_ to sound like a good idea.

Thankfully, Mikey doesn't seem to have activated that particular feature — he's so pumped full of energy that he can make the thing jump six feet in the air all on his own, so who knows what it would be like if he had some firepower behind all that muscle. As it is, Casey's going to get whiplash trying to keep an eye on him. "You're here, you made it in time, you brought pizza, you're the best — can you take Raph's place in _Mario Kart_ , he's being lame and won't race me on Rainbow Road, says something about me always cheating—"

"Get back here, numbnuts!" Raph growls from Casey's left, diving at his brother. Mikey shrieks and bounces away again, laughing as Raph tries to grab him.

"Sorry, Casey," Donnie apologizes, materializing out of nowhere and grabbing the pizza boxes out of Casey's hands when he jumps, startled. Don's eyes blink owlishly behind his glasses, and his voice is rueful when he says, "Mikey got into my stash of Five-Hour Energies and drank four before I could stop him — and that was after he'd already had at least six Mountain Dews. It's been a long afternoon."

"That explains a lot," Casey says, wincing a little as an almighty _crash_ echoes through the lair; Mikey's plowed into the weight stacks, and now Raph's pinned him down to the ground. "Where are Leo and Splinter?"

"Sensei's meditating," Don replies, leading Casey over toward the kitchen as he opens the lid of the top box to peek inside. "Extra cheese, _score_!"

"He's meditating in _this_ racket?" Casey asks incredulously, glancing over as Mikey starts doing push-ups — despite the fact that Raph's still sitting on him — and laughing at the string of insults Raph's shouting down at him.

Donnie shrugs, pulling out an assorted collection of dishes and tossing them on the beat-up table. "He says it's part of his training — builds focus. Leo went out to 'check the perimeter,' or so he told me, but I saw him and Raph playing Rock, Paper, Scissors a couple hours ago when they thought I wasn't looking, so basically he got out when he could to escape the Mikey mayhem."

"No wonder Raph's so pissed — oh, thanks," Casey says, taking the plate with two slices of meat lover's that Don hands him. "And you weren't involved in the game at all?"

"I, uh — I might have told them I had a very time-sensitive experiment that needed all of my attention for the afternoon," Donnie says, adjusting his glasses. His expression is entirely too innocent when he adds, "I had to see how quickly I could hack through all 164 episodes of _Candy Crush_."

"Oh my god, I'm dealing with five-year-olds," Casey groans. "How is this my life?"

Don laughs. "You haven't even heard what happened this morning after I—" His eyes suddenly grow huge and the laughter fades from his face as he looks over Casey's shoulder. "Leo? What _happened_?"

Casey whirls around and all the noise Raph and Mikey are making stops suddenly at the sight of Leo jogging into the lair with April cradled in his arms. She smacks Leo on the chest with one hand; the other is pressing a bloodied scarf against her nose, and the front of her t-shirt is spattered with drying blood. "Put me _down_ , Leo, I told you, I'm _fine_ ," she complains as they all gather around the pair.

"I ran across _someone_ trying to stop a break-in at an empty apartment building in Queens," Leo explains, setting April down on her feet, keeping one hand on her back for support.

"They just got a lucky shot, that's all — I'm really fine, I promise," April says, tipping her head back.

"Hey, hey, no, don't do that," Casey interjects, gently cupping the back of her head and pushing it forward. "Trust me, babe, I speak from experience, you do _not_ want blood draining into your throat, bad things happen," he adds, grabbing the scarf from her hands. "Spit it out into this and pinch your nose shut."

"Call me 'babe' again, and I'll cut off your balls with a spoon," April says in her most saccharine voice, making Raph chuckle despite the look of pure murder on his face, but she obeys, making a face at the gob of bloody spit that lands in the folds of the ruined scarf. "That was a Christmas present, too."

"Doesn't look like your nose is broken, but you might end up with a black eye," Donnie says, contrition in his voice as he adjusts his goggles and continues to run scans.

April reaches up and pats his arm with her free hand; thankfully, it's not the one covered in blood. "I already told you, I'm fine — besides, you should see the other guy."

Leo laughs a little ruefully. "It's true — a black eye is the least of his problems. The other two won't be getting out of a hospital bed anytime soon, either," he adds with a meaningful look at Raph, which even Casey recognizes as his _stand down, I'll take care of this_ look.

"Aww, yeah, that's my girl — did you use the kick I showed you, huh, did you, did you?" Mikey asks, crouching down so he can look up more easily into April's eyes.

"Yes, I did, it was very effective — they'll probably have to do a CT scan to check for internal bleeding," April says with a wide smile. That should not be as endearing or relieving as it is, Casey figures, but this is his life now, and he's not sure he can change it. "And exactly how much caffeine have you had today, Mikey?" she adds, not missing the fact that even though he's dropped into a low crouch and is far away from his pogo stick, Mikey is still definitely bouncing in place.

"Who did it?" Raph interjects, his eyes narrowed, cracking the knuckles of his left hand. "What were they after?"

"I don't know," Leo replies grimly. "By the time I got there, April had taken one of them down and the other two were trying to get away. Knocked them out before they could talk. It didn't look like they'd taken anything."

"I don't think they were after some _thing_ ," April says, looking up at Casey with considering eyes. "I think they were after some _one_. I saw them coming down the fire escape from the sixth floor of the apartment complex at the corner of 76th and 41st."

The bloody scarf drops from Casey's suddenly limp fingers. "Wait, _what_? What the hell would they be doing at my place?"

"Your place?" all four turtles shout at once.

"I thought you said it was empty!" Donnie says to Leo.

"What are you doing living in an empty apartment building?" Raph asks Casey.

"But you're living at that rundown motel!" Mikey exclaims.

There's a beat of shocked silence as they all look from Mikey to Casey and then back again; Mikey's hands are in front of his mouth, like he just blurted a secret he wasn't supposed to tell.

It's not really something that's meant to be a secret, but Casey's _definitely_ never mentioned it to anyone, especially not anyone in this room, and his eyes narrow as he stares at the smallest turtle. "Why exactly do you know that, Mikey?"

Mikey laughs a little nervously — though it's not Casey he's looking at, but back and forth between Leo and Raph, like _they're_ the ones who are going to be mad. "Be-because whenever you leave you always look like you — you're resigning yourself to it, like you don't like where you're going, and you don't really talk about yourself much, and I just — I just wanted to make sure you were okay, so… soIsnuckoutlastweekandfollowedyou."

It takes all of two seconds for them to decipher that last part, and then another few seconds for them to process it. Casey's not quite sure what to make of the strange warm feeling in his chest; the idea that someone _cares_ like that, that _Mikey_ had been paying attention enough to notice that is… well, not something he was expecting, to be perfectly honest.

Hell, until just now, Casey had been pretty convinced Mikey only liked him so much because he always brings them food.

From the looks of it, the others are just as surprised as Casey. Raph and Leo look absolutely shocked; April has one eyebrow raised, and Donnie looks almost gleeful and proud. Casey's not entirely sure what that's about, but he's guessing it has something to do with the fact that _Mikey_ pulled one over on _Leo_ and _Raph_.

"You _snuck out_?" Raph and Leo shout at the same time.

"It wasn't a big deal, honestly — I was out and back in like two hours, and _you_ didn't even notice I was gone the whole time, because I am actually a _ninja_ , I totally handled it, thank you very much," Mikey exclaims, taking one step back, then two; his fists clench and he squares his shoulders as the shock shifts to blooming anger on Raph's face and a healthy dose of sternness on Leo's.

Casey's been around long enough to recognize the look of a pending family feud, so he interjects, "Yeah, I've had to stay at that motel the last few weeks, and it's not in the best of shape, but better than my apartment — some of the Technodrome pieces damaged my building."

That swiftly diffuses the tension and reverts the focus back to Casey and April, who's digging her phone out of her pocket, frowning in thought. "Do these guys look familiar?" she asks, tapping open an app and holding the phone in his direction.

Casey takes it from her hand and swipes through a few pictures — closeups of three different guys, two white, one Asian, bloody and unconscious on the ground, each dressed in jeans and cutoff hoodies with some kind of symbol emblazoned on them: a violet-colored dragon curling in and around itself so that its body is twisted in a sort of Celtic knot before it eats its own tail. "No, but I do recognize that logo — it's from one of the new gangs in town, trying to crowd in on Foot territory," Casey says. "I've had to transport a couple of them, but haven't been personally involved in any cases. I hear they call themselves the Purple Dragons, but that's all I know, honestly."

"So what would they want with you? Or with your apartment?" Leo wonders, folding his arms as his eyes narrow in thought.

"Maybe they knew you're on the NYPD — if they knew you couldn't get into your apartment, they might've thought they could somehow access NYPD information you might've left there," Donnie muses.

Casey shakes his head. "That doesn't make sense; I've been under investigation for the last three months, so I haven't been working. And anyway, I don't really take any files home with me yet — I'm not authorized. Plus…"

"Plus what?" April prods after a moment of silence, straightening to her full height and looking Casey directly in the eyes. The glare she's shooting him shouldn't work as well as it does when she's still pinching her nose with one bloody hand, but then, if there's one thing Casey knows about this woman, it's that she defies all sorts of expectations.

"I've never put my residential address on any of my NYPD paperwork," he admits quietly. "All my mail goes to a P.O. Box, and my residential address is the place I lived in when my family — when I was younger. It's an empty lot now."

"But why?" Mikey asks with wide eyes; the others are just as curious, and this is fast getting into deep and muddy waters that Casey _really_ doesn't want to visit.

He silently thanks every higher power he can think of when his phone rings and saves him from answering that question — that is, until he sees who's actually calling, and then he quietly curses as he turns away from the group. "Jones."

"Jones, I've got some news you'll be happy to hear," Chief Vincent says. Even over the phone, he can feel the weight of her disdainful glare, and he braces himself for bad news. "IA's cleared you. You can come back to work tomorrow morning."

That's… pretty much the opposite of what he was expecting, and he can feel a grin spreading across his face as his shoulders slump in relief. "I — awesome! Thank you, Chief!"

"But you're also being transferred," Vincent continues, as if he'd never spoken. "My precinct." She pauses a moment for that to sink in; Casey's pretty sure he's been sucked into some alternate reality, because no way does a beat cop go straight to working for the Chief of Detectives, especially not one with his luck. "You'll be briefed on your new assignment at 9 AM sharp, so I trust you'll be on time."

"Absolutely," Casey says automatically. "I'll be there, Chief."

There's a beat of silence over the line. "And Jones?" Vincent says finally, her voice just as firm but definitely quieter than a moment before. "You and your friends need to stay away from your apartment tonight. I'll explain in the morning, but consider this your first order."

"I — okay. I understand," Casey says, even though he really, really doesn't.

"Good. 9 AM. Do _not_ be late." There's a sharp click, and the call ends. Casey pulls the phone away from his ear and stares at it for a long, long moment. He really has no idea what the hell just happened, but this day is certainly not getting any less weird.

"Casey?" April asks from behind him.

He turns to see the others all staring at him with curious looks on their faces. "So? What'd she say?" Mikey prompts.

"I have my job back — I guess," Casey says. "But she — she said you guys can't go check out the apartment tonight."

"Wait, what? How'd she know about that?" Raph demands.

"She didn't say. But her order was very clear, so obviously she knows _something_ ," Casey replies, pocketing his phone and rubbing his hand over his scalp with a weary sigh. "What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know, but here's what we're going to do," April says firmly, squaring her shoulders. "We're going to eat that pizza that's going cold, keep Mikey from having any more caffeine, and I am going to annihilate you all in _Super Smash Brothers Melee_. You—" She pokes a finger into Casey's sternum. "—are going to go talk to Chief Vincent and find out what she knows tomorrow. After that, you're coming right back here to tell us what the hell is going on, and then we're moving you from that shitty hotel into Vern's apartment. He's got an entire floor to himself with like four spare bedrooms, he has the space, I'll talk to him about it tomorrow," she adds when Casey's eyebrows shoot up. "If these guys are after you personally, you need a better place than some run-down motel. Got that?"

"Aye aye, Cap'n!" Mikey replies, snapping his heels together and saluting.

"Sir, yes, sir," Casey adds with a wry grin, laughing as April rolls her eyes.

Leo folds his arm as he looks at Mikey. "Do _not_ think this means we're done talking about you sneaking out, Michelangelo."

"What? I'm sorry, Leo, I can't hear you over the sound of all that cheese calling my name," Mikey says, leaping toward the kitchen. His grin is practically maniacal as he grabs the box of cheese pizza and stares into it. "Extra cheese, _score!_ "

"There had better be some of that left for me, Michelangelo."

Everyone freezes, then slowly turns toward the entrance of the dojo, where Master Splinter is calmly standing with his hands folded behind his back. "H-hey, Master!" Mikey says, swallowing audibly. "How — how long have you been standing there?"

Splinter strokes his beard as he tilts his head down slightly. "Long enough to know I need to add one hundred extra flips to your morning routine tomorrow."

"Awwwww, _man_! But _you_ didn't even know I was gone the first time, either!" Mikey complains.

Splinter nods once. "And that is why you're only doing extra flips instead of visiting the _hashi_."

Casey shoots a questioning glance to April, who shrugs in confusion even as Mikey says, "Oh, one hundred flips, that sounds totally reasonable and fair, thank you, Sensei, and I promise, it will _never_ happen again."

Raph rolls his eyes so hard Casey's surprised they're still in his head. "Give me that, numbnuts," he growls, snagging the pizza box from Mikey's hands.

"Aw, Raph, c'mon, man!" Mikey shouts, running after the taller turtle. "I'm dying over here, at least let me have three — no, four slices!"

"April, I've got your spare bag of stuff stashed in my room, if you want to change your shirt," Leo says, pointing at the blood. "You sure you're okay?"

"For the fifteenth time, I'm _fine_ , Leo," April says with a fond smile. "But a clean shirt would be nice, yes." She winces a little as she shifts her grip on her nose. "And maybe an ice pack to help with the swelling."

"You got it," Leo replies, jogging away.

"The _hashi_?" Casey asks, looking at Don.

Don makes a pained grimace before he turns toward his lab. "Trust me, you do _not_ want to know. I'll go get you some ibuprofen, April."

April punches Casey lightly on the arm as she walks past, and Casey snaps his gaping jaw shut. "Yes, for the record, this _is_ your life now, Jones, so you better get used to it," she says as Raph and Mikey get into yet another wrestling match, this time over who gets the first-player controller.

"Lucky me," Casey deadpans, his lips twitching as April laughs.

_tbc..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This thing is getting plotty. Sorry not sorry. 
> 
> FYI, I did go back and re-upload the last chapter because I uploaded the wrong version originally -- the vast bulk of it hasn’t changed, but there’s some stuff about timeline (specifically about Casey’s apartment and a few other things about his interacting with Mikey and the others) that would probably make some stuff in this chapter not make as much sense. Apologies for the n00b error, will try not to make that mistake again.

**-Then-**

_The moment the last of the energy from the portal device sputters out from existence, Casey, April, and Vern bolt for the nearest exit. Donnie’s image had flickered from the screen when they lost connection moments after shouting at them to close the portal, and for all her yelling, no one’s been responding to April since it happened._

_It’s a big cause for concern, and for about the eighth time in as many hours, Casey finds himself worrying over the state of four mutants that two days ago he had no idea existed._

_Instead of the world getting brighter as they emerge from the warehouse, it gets darker — the Technodrome is blocking the sun, and it’s nearly complete. “Oh my god, it’s_ enormous, _” Vern breathes._

_“The portal’s closing — why isn’t anything happening to the Technodrome?” April says, eyes as wide as Vern’s as she clutches at Casey’s arm. “If that thing is still in one piece when the portal shuts—”_

_“They’ll take care of it,” Casey says, banishing any doubt from his words or his thoughts. “They’ll do it, just give it a moment.”_

_“Waiting until the last second is something that’s only good for movie suspense,” Vern mutters. “Not for famous celebrities who are liable to get heart conditions with all these Doomsday events.”_

_As the final pieces make their way to the machine, a tiny shadow of something suddenly shoots out and away. “Look!” April exclaims, pointing as the huge Death Star-like contraption suddenly…_ shudders, _for lack of a better word, as the machine starts disassembling and following the beacon back into the portal._

_“They did it!” Casey and Vern shout together, laughing almost maniacally as all three of them start jumping up and down in excitement, whooping and cheering as the sun starts peeking out from behind the steadily shrinking machine._

_April suddenly freezes, one hand gripping Casey’s right arm and the other clenching the left sleeve of Vern’s coat. “How are they going to get out of there?” she croaks. “They’re going to get pulled through the portal, too!”_

_“Shit,” Casey hisses. “They can handle high falls, right? They’ll probably head back for the Chrysler Building.”_

_“See if you can reach Donnie,” Vern adds — unnecessarily, as April’s already dialed. “I do_ not _want to have to attempt an interdimensional rescue!”_

_“But think of all the accolades you would get if you pulled_ that _off,” Donnie suddenly interjects over the phone, his face appearing on screen through a video. “I’m pretty sure they might actually give you a key to, like, the planet or something.”_

_“Oh my god, Donnie, you scared me half to death!” April says, a huge grin spreading across her face. “Are you guys okay?”_

_A three-fingered hand shoves Donnie’s face out of the shot and a moment later, Mikey’s there with huge eyes and his maniac grin. “April, April, you missed it — I_ totally _went vertical and the Krang dude looked like a giant piece of gum and Leo made the best bad pun_ ever _, seriously, we need to add like five points to his score.”_

_The phone jerks out of Mikey’s hands and Leo’s face is suddenly there, a relieved grin as he sees all three of them staring back. “We can catch up later — you guys okay?”_

_“We’re fine,” April reassures him. She nudges Vern’s shoulder. “This one actually took down a few bad guys all on his own, so I think you guys are rubbing off on him.” Ignoring Vern’s sputtering at the unexpected compliment, she slings an arm around Casey’s neck and jerks him in closer to the screen. “_ This guy _managed to take out Bebop and Rocksteady_ and _shut down the portal.”_

_Leo’s eyes narrow as he studies Casey’s face before he smiles. “Good work, Casey — thank you,” he says._

_It’s a short and simple sentence, and it’s coming from a mutant that’s way younger than him, but Casey can’t help but feel a strange sense of acceptance — something he hasn’t felt in a long time. Since the early days of Foster Family #5, really._

_He’s not entirely sure what to make of it, but that’s the moment he resolves that, if this strange family will let him, he’ll stick around long enough to figure it out_.

-o-

**-Now-**

Walking into police headquarters at 8:45 the next morning, Casey can’t help but think back to the last time he was here — nearly three months ago, though in a lot of ways it feels like a lifetime. He passes different spots and remembers back to that night — he walked through this same security checkpoint with April; that spot was where he nearly got caught by Vincent; that was the window Don and Leo smashed their way through trying to stop the Foot; there was where Mikey and Raph were forced to kneel down, hands behind their head and guns pointed in their faces as fearful and hateful glares stared back at them.

Sometimes he wonders if the dreams where he and April were too late — where they moved too slow and one of the boys got a bullet to the brain, or where _he_ moved too slow and it was April getting cut down by gunfire instead, dying to defend her brothers — will ever stop coming. They’ve lessened slightly — down to about twice a week or so, usually overshadowed by the transitions to nightmares from his childhood — but his long and troubled history with sleep suggests that this, too, is going to be a constant part of his new reality.

As Casey follows Vincent’s assistant, who’s escorting him straight to Vincent’s office, he forces himself to keep his pace and posture nonchalant, especially when seemingly every single person he passes in an eight-foot radius turns to watch him walk by. Some are gazes of confusion; others of recognition and admiration; others of suspicion; a couple are even outright hostile. He makes special note of those, hoping he can keep a wide berth away from them in whatever this new role is that he’s stepping into.

The woman escorting him knocks once sharply on the doorframe of Vincent’s office. “Casey Jones to see you, Chief,” she says crisply.

“Thank you, Jade,” Vincent says without looking up from the pile of paperwork on her desk. “Close the door and sit down, Jones.”

Casey obeys, giving a silent nod of thanks to Jade and trying to keep his face as neutral as possible as he settles into the chair a few feet in front of Vincent’s desk. He waits, forcing himself not to drum his fingers or show any other general sign of nervousness, as she finishes scribbling her signature and a few notes on four more sheets of paper. He knows this tactic – make the perp sit and wait and stew on the things they’re trying not to lie about to the detective sitting in front of them.

It’s pretty effective, Casey has to admit, but since he hasn’t done anything wrong – well, anything wrong _lately_ , and certainly nothing the NYPD would probably care about at this point, since Internal Affairs has apparently cleared him – he’s not about to let it break him needlessly.

Vincent’s office is neat, clean, and fairly undecorated, aside from some old black-and-white photographs mounted in a frame on the wall to Vincent’s left. Casey can’t quite tell when the pictures were taken from where he’s sitting, but it’s easy to tell the top one is an old photo of a military unit. Judging by the jungle behind the men, he’d guess Vietnam. The bottom is a young couple standing in front of some nondescript suburban ranch-style house; the woman is very obviously pregnant, and the man is dressed in military fatigues.

“So you want to be a detective in the NYPD.”

Casey looks away from the photo to see Vincent staring intently at him. “Yes, ma’am,” he says. “That’s been my goal since I was a kid.”

Vincent’s eyes narrow slightly as she taps the end of her pen on the desk. “And how long do you expect the process to take?”

“I was planning to take the exam right after I finish up my degree next spring,” Casey replies. 

Vincent nods once. “And then after you take the exam?”

Casey’s eyebrows furrow a little at the line of questioning. “Work my way up the ranks to full detective in a couple years and help clean up the streets along the way. Keep people safe. That’s what it’s about, at the end of the day.”

He’s not one hundred percent sure, but he’s pretty sure he sees Vincent’s eyes soften just a little bit at that as she nods again. “It’s a pretty good plan. Admirable even.” She sets her pen down and and holds out the top sheet of paper to him. “I’m going to offer you another one. It’s up to you if you decide to take it after we’re done talking.”

Both of Casey’s eyebrows shoot up as he takes the document and starts reading it. _Special Liaison to the Bureau Chief_ , it says in bold print across the top, with a brief bullet list of responsibilities and benefits, an annual salary that’s nearly double what Casey made before the Incident… and there, at the bottom in an arrangement of size 12 Times New Roman letters that almost makes his heart stop before it starts beating again at a rapid-fire pace: _Liaison will have rank equivalent to Detective First-Grade (to be awarded upon completion of education requirements)._

“Wait — is this — what is this?” he stammers, looking back at Vincent.

“Let me make one thing clear, Jones,” she says firmly. “I think — no, actually, I _know_ that you’re not the smartest guy on the force. You’re a hothead and reckless — don’t think I’ve forgotten about the phone, or that I don’t know about your misuse of force at the Horseshoe Bar,” she adds, narrowing her eyes.

Casey swallows hard as she sighs. The firm line of her shoulders softens just a touch as she says, “But you have passion, you work hard, and you’re honest – possibly to a fault – and that’s something this force always needs. I can’t think of anyone who would’ve tried to sell me some bullshit story about a garbage truck chasing down a bunch of ninjas on motorcycles who were trying to break the world’s most dangerous criminal out of police custody.”

“Well, when you put it _that_ way,” Casey starts with a grin, pausing when he sees the look on Vincent’s face. “Sorry, Chief; shutting up now.”

“Most importantly, you have the connections we need,” Vincent continues. “Officially, this new role is special liaison to me. Unofficially, it’s special liaison between the NYPD and the Heroes of New York.”

Casey can hear the capital letters in the title, and he has to fight back a laugh. Mikey will be shouting about that one for at least a week – longer, if the press starts using it regularly.

Then he blinks, and the growing excitement he’s feeling fades a little as he realizes what she’s implying: _They want me for my friends_. “Why me? Leo already told you that you could go through April if they’re needed.”  

“I’m well aware of that,” Vincent says. “But I’ve read April’s notes about their escapades, and the amount of crime they’ve stopped in this city is impressive. They can move around in stealth and bring down criminals the NYPD can even dream of touching. We’re facing growing dangers from unknown threats on multiple fronts — and that was _before_ we found out aliens were real and mutants are a thing. I _need_ to be able to utilize that resource to keep this city safe.”

“So you want the NYPD to rely on information — and maybe even manpower — from a group of teenage mutant ninja brothers that the majority of this city has no idea exists? How is that going to hold up in court?” Casey asks.

“That’s where you come in,” Vincent replies. “You know procedure; you’re nine credits away from completing a degree in criminal justice administration — yes, I know all about that,” she says at Casey’s surprised look, waving a hand at him, “and judging from my interviews with your instructors and professors, I bet you’ll be a prime candidate for an advanced degree beyond that, if you want one. You know which rules must be kept, and which rules can be stretched. Between you and April, you can deliver any evidence the turtles uncover, and cite anonymous witnesses when needed. And you’ll be the one to make the call when the NYPD needs to step into situations where official oversight is needed.”

Casey chews his lip as he looks back down at the description. “Chief… what does all this have to do with what happened at my apartment yesterday?” he asks finally, looking back at her. “How did you even _know_ that was my apartment?”

Vincent does not seem surprised by the question. “I can only answer that after you answer this: Do you want to take this position?”

“What makes you think they’ll trust me enough to follow my judgment or tell me what we need to know?”

Vincent raises an eyebrow. “They trusted you enough to show you where they live and help save the world, didn’t they?”

Casey huffs out a laugh. “Those were pretty extenuating circumstances.”

Vincent sits back in her chair and studies him for a moment. “After knowing them for less than eight hours, you were willing to step in front of gunfire for them and take the fall for them,” she says finally.

“Yeah, well, those were also pretty extenuating circumstances,” Casey says with a sigh. He rubs his scalp for a moment before folding his hands in his lap and leaning forward a little in his chair. “Look, I’m not gonna lie — I _do_ want this position, even if everything in me knows that there’s another shoe that’s going to drop as soon as I take it. But you’re asking me to accept a position and a role on behalf of an entire team that’s so far outside the jurisdiction of the NYPD it’s pretty laughable to even consider the possibility that they’d be working regularly with you guys.”

Vincent crosses her arms. “You do know every new position has a ninety-day trial period, right? It doesn’t have to be permanent. And if it doesn’t work out, that doesn’t mean you’ll necessarily be out of a job, either. I can’t guarantee you’d keep the detective badge — you’d just have to earn it the normal way — but I meant it when I said you’ve got something this force always needs. This position is unique because it involves an outside team, yes, but that doesn’t change the fact that _you_ are the person I want in this role.”

Casey blinks. Vincent stares back at him.

He blinks again. Vincent raises an eyebrow.

“I… thank you,” he says finally, because he literally can’t think of anything else to say. Other than maybe _you have no idea what you’re talking about_ , or _if you knew who you were talking to, you wouldn’t be saying that_ , but she’s saying everything with the exact same serious expression she had when she declared she was taking over the Shredder's escape from custody, and Casey’s pretty sure she won’t take kindly to him questioning her judgement.

“I know you don’t believe me,” Vincent says. “Trust me when I say this won’t be the first time I’ve continued doing what I do in spite of a lack of someone’s belief in my judgment. That’s nothing new. But you did something that has happened only a handful of times throughout my career — you made me rethink my first impression. I don’t take that lightly.” She tilts her head slightly as she looks at him. “So. Last chance. Do you want the position?”

Casey glances from her to the sheet of paper and back again. “What happened at my apartment yesterday?” he asks finally, trusting her to recognize the answer for what it is.

Something akin to a smile flits across Vincent’s face before she looks serious again. “What have you been told about the status of your building?” 

“That it’s structurally unsound and needs repairs, but the landlord has gone missing and there’s been some sort of hold up in the process,” Casey replies.

“Only one part of that sentence appears to be true,” Vincent says as she tugs open one of the drawers in her desk and pulls out a padded manilla envelope. “Your landlord is indeed missing, but the building was not damaged in the Incident.”

“What?” Casey says with a frown. “But I was there — for a bit, at least, when I was grabbing my stuff. I definitely saw some damage on the corner of the building near my apartment.”

“The best my inspectors can tell, that is purely superficial damage, and it looks like it happened after the event. None of the other buildings in the neighborhood were damaged, and video footage shows that all of the pieces of the Technodrome had more than enough clearance over that part of town to avoid damaging anything under ten stories,” Vincent replies.

“Then why—”

“The NYPD has been told by a secret agency of the federal government — the same agency that first made us aware of your apartment when they came asking questions, I might add — that the investigation is out of our hands,” Vincent interrupts, pushing the envelope across the desk in his direction. Her voice is flat, though Casey can pick up the tones of barely restrained anger. He’s pretty sure she’s reciting verbatim some missive handed down to her by the feds as she says, “It has been removed from my jurisdiction, and none of my officers are to investigate further.”

Before Casey can protest anything, she reaches down and tosses something else onto the desk next to the envelope — a small duffel bag. It’s the one Casey had stored in his locker when he was working with Corrections. “Before you sign the paperwork with HR to officially become one of my officers, I first need to return some of your personal effects we confiscated during the course of our IA investigation. Please take a look inside and verify that all the items on this list are included inside and are in the condition you last remember seeing them,” she says with a completely straight face as she sets another sheet of paper on top of the envelope.

Casey fights back a knowing grin as he approaches the desk, scoops up the inventory list she’d just set down, and unzips the bag, making a show of looking through it. “Looks good to me,” he says, dropping the inventory list — and the envelope he’d also picked up, which weighs next to nothing — inside before zipping it up and slinging the strap over his shoulder.

“Good,” Vincent says, pulling another folder out of her drawer and passing it over to him. Unlike the envelope, the folder is heavy — nearly an inch thick, held shut with a large binder clip to keep papers from flying everywhere. “After you finish your orientation this morning, I want you to start on your first official assignment. We’re still having trouble tracking down the whereabouts of Dr. Baxter Stockman. I want you to take another look through all his grants, partnerships, sales, research articles — anything from the last five years. As far as we can tell, that seems to be when he began his association with the Shredder. Considering the number of revolutionary developments he made public over the past few years, there’s no telling what sorts of things he invented specifically for the Foot.” 

“No one’s found anything so far?” Casey asks, thumbing through the the sheaf of papers. Half of this is copies of patents of inventions with schematics that look way above his head, and taped to the inside of the folder is a thumb drive. _Donnie is going to have field day with all of this_ , he thinks.

“Nothing solid. A lot of loose threads and dead ends,” Vincent replies. She smirks a little. “You’ll officially have a desk, but as long as you check in regularly over the course of any active investigations you’re involved in, you don’t have to be there all the time — you can make use of your other resources as needed.”

Casey grins back at her. “Got it, Chief,” he says. “I won’t let you down.”

Vincent gives him one last look before turning back to the stack of paperwork on her desk. “I’m counting on that.” She waves a hand toward the door and then picks up a red pen. “That’s all for now — Jade will help you get to where you need to go for the rest of your orientation. Welcome to the force, Detective.”

Casey’s grin gets even bigger at the title. “Thank you, ma’am,” he says, adjusting the duffle bag on his shoulder as he heads for the door. Just as he’s about to step through the threshold, he pauses as a memory filters across his brain. “So… I guess I’m not so much of a loser, then?” he asks, looking back over his shoulder.

“Oh, no, you’re definitely a loser,” Vincent says without missing a beat. She crosses out a huge line of text on the paper in front of her and then looks up. This time, there’s no mistaking the small smile on her face. “But here’s the secret that no one tells you — the best people on this force are losers. Gives them extra incentive to _be_ the best.”


End file.
